


Alone in an Empty Room

by sinningintherain



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Dubious Consent, Nipple Play, Orgasm Denial, Restraints, as in Shiro is strapped to a table and can't really do anything about it, not in the literal sense, the author supports the death of the author
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:40:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25381018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinningintherain/pseuds/sinningintherain
Summary: Alone in an empty room, is the touch on his body real or just a trick his mind is playing on him?
Kudos: 7





	Alone in an Empty Room

**Author's Note:**

> The word count wasn't intentional, and neither was the poetic quality of the summary.
> 
> If you feel like the tags are not enough, tell me and I'll add the appropriate ones.

He doesn’t know how long it’s been since he woke up in this room. The light never changes, the same stark white that’s always been since he regained consciousness. His wrists are restrained to his sides with appear to be leather cuffs, as are his ankles, spread open as far as they can go.

It took a long a long time for his mind to realize he was naked. Not even the temperature fluctuates.

Shiro has no idea where he is. The last thing he remembers before waking up in the white room is the arena, the cacophony of the crowd chanting, “Champion!” over and over again after his last fight.

A low, humming sound starts coming out of nowhere. Shiro strains to look around, but nothing is moving, nothing has changed except for the broken silence.

The hum increases in volume, reaching that of a purring cat.

Shiro startles when something brushes the sole of his feet. There’s nothing there when he looks.

He relaxes again on the surface he is bound to. Whatever the sound is, there’s nothing in the room with him.

When something caresses his shin, he’s still somewhat sure it’s only his mind creating sensations to keep itself sane in a room utterly void of stimuli.

When the fleeting touch reaches his thighs, he forces himself not to react. The invisible hand seems to hesitate once it reaches his groin, but, to Shiro’s immense relief, it continues exploring.

By the time his chest is being stroked, Shiro is sure it’s not his mind playing tricks on him. The touch passes over his abs, barely pausing to trace them with barely enough pressure to feel it. Shiro doesn’t have to strain much to hide his instinctive flinch.

Masking his reaction becomes harder when the touch reaches his nipples. The hand brushes over one with marginally more strength that it’s put on all the other brushes, but it’s enough to make Shiro gasp.

The touches stop. Shiro doesn’t dare breathing in case the hand’s really disappeared.

A groan escapes his lips when the pressure on his nipple returns, this time more pronounced. There is nothing to the hand’s touch, no emotion, almost like kneading his nipple and pinching the other from time to time were just an experiment, an after-thought, a planned deviation from a plan derailed when Shiro reacted.

To his surprise, Shiro realizes his cock is hard. The recognition prompts a moan to spill from his lips, and the hand increases the friction.

His mind almost whites out when his other nipple is enveloped in a warm touch, almost like someone had taken it in their mouth. The first brush of what feels exactly like a tongue is enough to make his cock twitch. God, it’s been so long since he was touched like this…

The hand redoubles its efforts, almost as if it knew that Shiro’s mind is more interested in what the tongue is doing to his other nipple.

Shiro’s groans are almost ceaseless now, a litany of half-formed curses and pleads to go faster, stronger, _damn it, touch me! Please, please, touch me!_

His hips are moving almost against his will, rolling in the air, seeking non-existent friction on his aching cock. His panting grows harsher with every flick of tongue, with every stroke on his nipple. His movements are jerkier as he chases a touch to his cock that’s not there, not there, _not there—_

He feels his balls tighten, his gut simmering with the promise of release, and then—

Shiro sobs when the hand and the mouth disappear. He bucks his hips as hard as the restraints allow him to, _please, please, please, come back, please_ , but nothing happens. The humming sound has stopped sometime while he was focused on the stimulation.

The light has not changed. There is nothing in the room with him.

Shiro sobs again when his cock throbs, full and unspent.

It's a long time until he can think about anthing else.

**Author's Note:**

> Was this an experiment? Was this Shiro's mind playing tricks on him? Were there cameras in the room and the entire Galran Empire saw the undoing of its Champion? Were the Paladins on the other side of the camera feed? Will Shiro be ever released?


End file.
